Date: Wed, 7 May 2014 19:52:59 +0100 (BST)
From: Robert Furlong
Subject: Awake with Jake Part 1
AWAKE WITH JAKE PART 1
by Robert Furlong
robert.furlong@rocketmail.com
robertfurlong.tumblr.com
===
"So, tell me about you and Marcus," my dad said after he'd sat himself down
opposite me with his glass of white wine.
"What's there to tell?" I asked with a shrug after taking a deep gulp from
the beer he'd handed me. I was more used to being passed a glass of coke
or Sprite but now that I'd spent my first term at university and was seen
as 'all growed up', he was finally letting me join him for a proper father
and son drink.
"How did the two of you... well... 'get together' I suppose you'd call it?"
I smiled. He could be such a gumby sometimes.
"I told you," I said. "We were playing Jenga – a whole group of us
lads, pissed – and I chose the block that said I had to lick the butt of
the guy sitting next to me. Which happened to be Marcus."
"I suppose it's your classic boy-meets-boy story," my dad observed dryly.
He thought he was so funny.
"There's not much more to tell," I said, putting the glass down on the
table. "I licked his bum with them filming me on their phones, and I found
I actually liked it. I didn't show how I felt to the others, though. I
made out like I was about to ralph. After that, though –"
"About to 'ralph'?" my dad cut in.
"Yeah, you know... vomit. I was retching like it was the most manky thing
in the world, but all the time I was really enjoying it."
"You got aroused?"
I laughed. "Of course I did!"
My dad smiled back. "Didn't you find, though, like I often do, that your
excitement was difficult to conceal? I know that we're... er... similarly
built out front, you and I."
I chuckled at his fuckward way of saying things. If he felt the need to
point out that we both have big dicks, why didn't he just say it?
"I was crouching behind him," I explained. "And in any case, the other
lads' eyes were on how far I was pushing my tongue between Marcus's
butt-cheeks. I could have had my knob out and been stroking it and they
probably wouldn't have figured."
My dad smiled but I could see he was embarrassed that I'd referred to
masturbation. I couldn't understand why as we both knew how often we both
did it – Jeez, it was just something that was going to happen when you
have two over-sexed males living together.
Just that morning, when he'd sleepily shuffled towards the bathroom, a
quick glance through the half-open door of my bedroom had told him how his
son's day was starting. And ten minutes later, when I was clumping
downstairs for a coffee, the rapid thumping of his duvet from his bedroom
door had confirmed that he too had woke up horny.
Guys wank. Get over it.
"So what happened after that?" dad asked. "You said that Marcus had stayed
over with you and that the two of you had... well... experimented
together."
"I dunno if you wanna hear it, dad!" I laughed, reaching over to pick up my
beer again. "I mean if you're gonna blush at the mere mention of me
rubbing my dick, you'll have a heart attack at the sort of stuff we got up
to!"
"I'm sorry," my dad said. "You know what I'm like about
masturbation... I'm just a bit old fashioned, I guess. Blame your
grandma."
"It's okay," I grinned, and then took another long swig from my glass.
"I'm actually not so hung up about sexual stuff as I once was," he went on.
"A year ago I'd have curled up and died with embarrassment at the thought
of having a conversation like this with you, but... you know... things have
moved on a lot for me since then."
"Are you sure you wanna hear about the two of us guys though?"
He smiled. "You know what happened during my first time with a member of
my own gender. I'd very much appreciate hearing about yours; for
comparison purposes only, of course."
'For comparison purposes only'? Who was he trying to kid?! We both knew
why he wanted to hear this and how much his dick would be growing in his
trousers as I told him. Why does he always try to dress things up?
I glanced over at the TV which was still on, though the sound was on mute.
It looked like some American show was on but it wasn't one I knew.
I decided to exploit my dad's interest for my own gain.
"You know, I actually don't know much about what went on in that hotel," I
pointed out with a smirk. I knew vaguely what had happened between him and
Guy Leeson – that it had involved a lot of whiskey and a certain amount
of uncharacteristic spontaneity on the part of my dad – but not the
details. Now was the perfect opportunity to find out.
"Well, to cut a long story short," my dad began, "Guy hadn't had a woman in
a while. He was quite flagrantly aroused and asked me to... you
know... help him out. Eventually I agreed that he could... er... make use
of my mouth."
"You gave him a blowjob," I said, cutting to the chase.
Dad smiled over at me, his cheeks flushing pink. "That's a less elegant
way of putting it, yes."
My dad, with all his prim and proper ways, had ended up going down on my
friend's dad's cock! Him on his knees sucking off a horny plumber!
I suppressed a smile and asked, "And then what?"
He took a drink from his wine. I could see this was difficult for him but
as he clearly wanted to know about my own first time (for comparison
purposes only, of course), it was only fair that he dished the dirt on his
own.
"Well, in spite of the fact that my only sexual experiences up until that
point had been with women – your mother, mainly – I found that I
really liked the smell and taste of Guys' testicles."
He blushed a little redder at how personal that revelation was and I smiled
with as much encouragement as I could to compel him to continue.
"I kept sniffing them and licking them, and I found my face moving lower
between his legs, working my way behind his balls into the rather
wonderfully odorous crevice right behind them."
I chuckled at his language: I too loved licking other guys down there but I
would never have thought of saying that any of them had a 'wonderfully
odorous crevice' lurking just behind their nads.
"I kept pushing deeper between his legs," my dad went on, "until I had my
nose and mouth level with his... well..."
"Arsehole?" I suggested.
"Yes, that's the one," he agreed with a slight look of disapproval. "And
to my amazement, I was fascinated by it – the smell, the taste, the
whole sensation of having my face back there on another man's most private,
and alluringly hairy, place."
"So you enjoyed it?" I asked.
"Let's just say that within a very short space of time, Guy had an arc of
stickiness reaching from the back of his head all the way down to his bum."
"And I'm guessing the headboard of the bed ended up similarly covered by
him?"
He chuckled. "No, not really. To be brutally honest, most of his ended up
down my throat."
"Oh, nice one!" I laughed. "Waste not, want not, eh?"
He smiled back at me. "I've taught you well."
"You have indeed!"
My old man gulping down my mate's dad's jizm! Now that was something you
didn't hear about every day.
He took another sip of his wine, now more amused than embarrassed, before
going on, "Come on, then, Jake. Let's hear about your first time. I've
told you mine so it's only fair..."
I nodded. "Okay." And I thought back to what had happened that night.
Except that wasn't my first time: well, not really.
It was my first time at going the whole way with another lad, granted, but
it wasn't my first gay experience: that had happened a year or so earlier.
My very first gay experience – proper gay experience – was when I'd
wanked off with a mate of mine called Craig in his bedroom on the way home
from college and things had gone a bit further than I'd expected. To be
totally honest, I'd wanked off with a few other lads before then but it had
never been anything serious and most of the time we hadn't even touched
each other. It was pretty much like taking a piss at the urinals standing
next to a mate – we were both just relieving ourselves and happened to
be doing it at the same time.
With Craig it had been different: I'd known that it would be when he'd
invited me to his house when we'd been walking home that afternoon. He was
as camp as fuck – I mean, everyone called him 'Queer Craig' – and I'd
pretty much figured out what the score was when he'd suggested we could
"listen to some music" and had added, with a funny sort of smile that I'd
figured must be a gay thing, that his mum was having to work late.
He was out to get up to some crump with me – that much seemed
smack-in-the-face obvious – but I went along with him, partly because
he'd been a friend since primary school but mainly because, well, I was a
bit curious, I suppose.
I'd always felt slightly protective towards Craig, the two of us went so
far back. Other lads would always be dicking with him for being different
from the rest of the sheep, but that would make Craig just play up to his
image all the more. I once had words with him about something he was
wearing – a stripy yellow vest and three-quarter length jeans which made
him look, at least to me, like a screaming queen. I'd said, "Come on,
mate, you can't wear those. Everyone'll take the piss and stuff," and he'd
turned to me with a smirk and said with total sincerity, "You know what,
Jake – I couldn't give a fuck."
Anyway, when we'd gone up to his bedroom, he closed the door and I'd sat on
his bed, scrolling through the tracks on his MP3 player while he farted
about with his computer. Pretty soon he was showing me some porn he'd
downloaded – all straight, but it was kind of noticeable that the dudes
were all majorly well-hung – and when I'd made it clear how much I was
enjoying it – the chicks, that is – he suggested that we get our
knobs out beat ourselves off together over it. It struck me as a bit
unusual for him to propose we should wank off together but not so far out
of the ordinary as to seem outright gay. I'd made out like I was
reluctantly agreeing to whack my dick off with him just because it was
something to do and – you know, let's face it – I was so fucking
bored.
In truth, I enjoyed showing myself off to other guys. I liked to flash my
big fuck-stick to the rest of the team after football training and would
quite often get a hard-on just to show them how massive it is. Once, while
I was really laying it on and some of them filming me on their phones, I'd
proven that I could lean forwards enough to get my mouth around my own
humongous bell-end. I couldn't believe how hot it felt to suck my own dick
with them all laughing and cheering and pointing their phones at me. I'd
got so well into it, thrusting my cock in and out of my mouth and showing
them how I was feeding on my own precum, that I'd realised way too late
that my balls were about to let loose. So, yeah, there's these videos
which do the rounds from time to time, with me nutting off as I suck my own
cock; my face suddenly turning serious and my cheeks going bright red as I
had to swallow really fast to keep up with the torrent of spunk that I was
so not expecting.
As Craig's taste in porn showed that he enjoyed the sight of a massive
bone-on, I wanted to give him a look of mine in all its twelve-inch glory
to see how horny I could make him. My cock wasn't just long, it was really
thick as well: the shaft was about seven inches around according to my
well-used ruler. As soon as I yanked my boxers down, I could tell from his
face that I didn't disappoint: his eyes almost popped out of his head when
my gigantic horse-dick sprang forwards like some weird third limb.
A teacher at school had once jokingly called me 'Jake the Peg with the
Extra Leg' in the changing rooms after football. I think it was from an
old TV show but I've never been arsed enough to look it up.
We'd climbed on his bed, face-to-face, with our trousers hitched down and
our underwear around our knees. Craig's cock had poked upwards, small and
thin, with a bright red mushroom on the end of it which looked almost
nastily slimy. His bollocks hung down between his hairless thighs, his
scrotum sagging and wrinkled and reminding me of an old lady's neck.
As you can probably tell, I wasn't really into other dudes' junk back then.
Anyway, we'd grinned at each other and started wanking ourselves off to one
of the movies he had on his computer. It was actually quite cool cracking
one off with a mate I'd known since we'd been kids: we'd played Hide and
Seek and stuff as little boys and now we were playing far more enjoyable
games as much bigger boys.
It turned out that the movie was a lot tamer than I was used to but I found
myself becoming increasingly turned on by the way Craig was focussing on me
all the time instead of looking at the screen. He seemed fascinated by my
huge pair of knackers: he kept laughing at how much bigger they were than
his and the way they jiggled around between my legs to the rhythm of my
fist. I made a play of parading them for him – they were like an
over-ripe pair of plums in comparison with his grape-sized nuts – and
thrust my hips back and forth to make them swing around like a pendulum as
I swept my hand up and down my stiffening dick.
As he wanked his tiny cock, still staring at my much larger version, he
reached underneath himself with his left hand and rubbed behind his own
bobbing ball-sack.
"What are you doing?" I asked and he smiled at my question.
"Don't you do this too?" he asked back. "It feels really good. It's
called your 'taint' and it's nice to rub your fingers up and down it while
you're wanking off."
"Why's it called your taint?" I asked, not really believing him. He'd
always just make stuff up like that, ever since we'd been kids.
"Cos 't ain't your balls and 't ain't your arsehole!" he laughed.
I laughed back and reached underneath myself with my left hand. I rubbed
the hairy ridge between the back of my jiggling bollocks and the puckered
entrance behind it, and found that, as Craig had said, the sensation was
extremely pleasant.
I beamed at him, enjoying being coached; it seemed I could learn some
useful stuff from this guy. If he was gay – and I was, by now, becoming
certain that he was – he'd clearly found out things about the male body
that I had no idea of. Gay guys had their uses – I'd made a mental note
to remember that.
We kept wanking together, my eyes half on his computer screen but his
firmly fixed on my cock as I pumped it. I soon realised that he was
reaching even further under himself and that both his hands were moving
rhythmically; one on his cock, the other between his legs.
He gapsed, "Oh God, yeah!" – the way he said it sounded so effeminate
that I nearly laughed – and I asked him, again, what he was doing.
"I'm fingering myself," he declared with a mischievous smirk.
I must have just looked at him blankly because he grinned more broadly and
explained: "I'm fingering my butt-hole, Jake! Pushing my middle finger in
and out of my arse!"
I think I must have grinned back at him. "Really?"
"Yeah, and it feels really hot!"
I looked down at his hand, pushing deep between his legs. He was working
it in and out of himself in time with the pumping of his right hand on his
cock. It was like watching a girl frig herself, but the cock out front
made it weirdly clear that this was another lad and I could already smell
that it wasn't a pussy he had his finger knuckle-deep in.
"Don't you ever do this when you wank?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I've never really thought about it. Isn't it a
bit... you know... skanky?"
"Kind of... yeah... but it feels amazing!" he revealed, before adding,
"Your finger needs to be wet though, otherwise it hurts a bit."
He pulled his hand out from between his legs, raised his bum-streaked
finger up to be copiously spat on and then returned it back underneath his
balls to resume pleasuring himself.
I sniffed the air as his finger took up its rhythm again, now with a much
louder slurping noise, between his legs.
"It smells a bit whiffy, Craig," I told him. "Is it always like that?"
"Yeah," he grinned. "I think you kind of come to like it, though. It's a
raunchy smell... it can be quite sexy sometimes."
I threw him a disbelieving look, continuing to wank myself, as I sniffed
the air again. "How can a smell like that be sexy, Craig? What sort of
sex can produce a smell like that?"
"I dunno," he shrugged. Then he added, as if the thought had just occurred
to him: "Maybe it's the smell you'd get if two guys were... you
know... doing it together..."
"Doing what together?" I asked, still wanking myself.
"I dunno," he repeated. "Maybe... butt-fucking!"
He said 'butt-fucking' with a deliberate emphasis: in spite of him feigning
inexperience, this was something he'd thought intently about.
I smiled at him. "You reckon?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Stands to reason. Same cause and effect."
We kept wanking together – my hand was starting to slide more quickly up
and down my long, thick shaft – as I sniffed at the air inquisitively,
starting to enjoy the intensifying odour of what Craig was doing to himself
behind his nut-sack. The smell he was making was quite pungent but had an
undeniably erotic component; knowing the orifice that it came from seemed,
absurdly, to fuel rather than stifle the growing intrigue I was feeling.
Craig stared at me, a slight smile on his face, as his left hand pumped
back and forth more vigorously between his legs. The sounds from his hole
had grown much louder and moister: they sounded nasty but I liked them –
as he'd pointed out, they were the fascinating sounds of a fellow male
being fucked.
I was wondering if he was imagining that it was my cock inside him; whether
he was using the feel of his finger to fantasize about having me work my
much wider girth in and out of his hot, slimy bum. For some reason, the
idea of that was making my boner get fully hard and I jacked myself as fast
as I could, sniffing the air again to enjoy how it would smell if I really
were fucking my friend's arse.
"Okay... so it is quite a horny smell," I admitted at length, my rapidly
pounding fist making any other claim seem futile. "I'm starting to see why
you like it."
"The smell's only part of it," he said. "It's the feel of it that's the
best. Having a finger sliding in and out of you while you're
wanking... it's fucking immense, Jake! You gotta try it!"
I shook my head and pulled a face. "It sounds heinous, man! I'm not
shoving my finger up my butt! I don't wanna feel that!"
We wanked together for a little longer, with Craig's left hand driving back
and forth underneath his balls to finger himself more quickly, noisily and
– and to my rising interest – odorously.
At length, he plucked up the nerve to ask me: "Do you want me to do it for
you?"
"Do what?" I asked, staring at his hand as it worked away between his
thighs.
"Finger your butt."
Before I could reply he quickly added, "I mean, I totally get that you
wouldn't want to do it to yourself."
He stared at my face, as if scanning for a sign that I might be about to go
bat-shit at his suggestion. He seemed relieved when my only reaction was
to laugh.
"You'd actually do that, Craig? Wouldn't it be, like, really grim to shove
your finger up another guy's arse?"
He smiled conspiratorially. "To be honest, mate, I think I'd quite like
it."
Yeah I bet you fucking would, I thought. I knew you were gay; I've thought
it for years.
Craig's sexuality didn't bother me – just because he was gay didn't mean
I was, even if we were messing around together like this. I felt turned on
that I was turning him on, if that makes sense, and I liked it that he was
probably fantasising about bending over for me to shove my cock up his
butt. I didn't want to fuck him, but it excited me to think that he might
want me to.
"So do you want me to finger to you?" he persisted. "Show you what it's
like?"
I smirked at him naughtily. I thought I did.
I lifted my large, heavy scrotum upwards to give him access to the hot,
dank crack behind them and pushed my hips out towards him. I chuckled at
the eagerness of his expression and said, "Go on, then, Craig, wank my arse
off!"
He pulled his finger out of himself and lifted it back to his mouth for him
to spit on again. It looked pretty rank: I couldn't believe I was about to
let him push it into me.
I was too intrigued to stop him, though: I knew full well that this was the
sort of thing which the PSHE teacher at school would call "highly
inappropriate behaviour" but that only made it more fun.
He pushed his hand between my legs and I stopped jerking my dick while he
located my arsehole. Why was I letting another lad do this to me? My cock
was straining with excitement, its head almost bursting from how hard it
was throbbing: that, I suppose, was my answer, if one were needed.
When he found my hole, his eyebrows arched upwards in amused surprise.
"You're well slimy back here, mate!"
"Easier for you to slide in!" I suggested.
"Yeah, but this is probably gonna make a massive stink! A lot stronger
than mine."
"Is that a problem?" I asked, rather thinking I knew what his response
would be.
"Of course not," he laughed, confirming what I'd suspected. "It'll be red
hot, Jake! Fucking well toasty!"
He pushed into me with a wet-sounding squelch and I gasped at the sensation
of being penetrated for the first time.
He grinned at me expectantly. "How's it feel?"
"So far so good," I replied with a nod. "How's it feel for you? Like a
big, wet pussy, I suppose?"
He recoiled and looked almost disgusted by the comparison. "It feels like
what it is. Another lad's arsehole!"
"Does it feel okay, though?"
"It feels proper horny," he smiled. "Nice and ripe!"
"Just how you like it?" I chuckled.
"Exactly how I like it!" he smirked.
I suddenly realised that I'd always been wrong about Craig. I had always
assumed him to be gay – and it was now abundantly clear that he was –
but I'd thought that, as a sensitive and effeminate young guy, his
fantasies would be centred around being dominated by tougher, more
masculine males. I suppose I'd assumed that, if Craig were to fantasize
about having sex with me, he'd be the one eagerly bending over to receive
me, wanking himself off at the feel of my cock pounding in and out of him.
Now it dawned on me that I'd got it the wrong way around. In spite of his
campness and his girlish manner, Craig was very much into other boys' bums
and if there was any fucking to be done, he'd want to be the one to have
his cock buried up to its hilt. I now realise, although I'd have had no
idea back then that such a term existed, that Craig was an effeminate top.
In spite of the fact that there was no way I was going to let him bugger
me, I was suddenly fascinated by the idea that he might want to. For some
reason the contrast between his delicate manner and his obvious preference
to be sexually dominant appealed to me and I grinned at him as he pushed
his finger deeply into my hole.
"You like that," I said. It wasn't a question.
He smirked back at me and I saw that he'd been waiting for this for some
time.
"It's good for starters," he said with a chuckle.
Once his finger had pushed up as far as it could inside me, he told me to
masturbate quickly. "It'll feel awesome having something up your butt when
you're wanking off," he explained. "When you cum, you won't believe it!"
I started pumping my organ again and he worked his finger in and out of my
backside. He was right again: it did feel really good.
"You're nice and hairy back there, Jake, I like that," he said and I
laughed.
"You like my butt," I said, again as a statement rather than an inquiry.
"I fucking love it," he revealed, as his finger took up a steady rhythm
inside me, working my hole as confidently as might finger the more silken
and folded opening of a girl.
Craig was, I realised, a lad just like me. For all he was gay, his sexual
needs were the equivalent of mine: he wanted someone else's hole squeezing
around his cock, but in his case the object of his interest was other guys'
arseholes.
He started frigging me more quickly, the ball of his hand thumping back and
forth against my hefty balls. We smiled at each other and I sniffed at the
air, surprised at how much stronger my bum smelt as he fingered me compared
to his.
"Smells good, doesn't it," he muttered, as his right hand started pounding
at his own erection. "That's the smell of me fucking you. The smell of
you bending over and me screwing your arse while I wank you off, Jake!"
"Is that what you want, Craig?" I asked him, surprised by how excited I was
growing at what he was saying.
He didn't reply but instead leaned towards me, his lips reaching outwards
as he homed in on mine.
I turned my neck to one side, repelled by the thought of having another boy
kiss me, and he pushed his face against my cheek, his breath hot against my
ear.
Our bodies pressed together as we wanked ourselves as quickly as we could.
Craig's finger was jabbing roughly in and out of my rectum, filling the air
around us with their rough, earthy odour. Whereas his own scent had been
indistinct and musky, mine was much coarser and uncompromisingly anal. His
whole bedroom seemed to be reeking of this pungent declaration that I was
having my first taste of anal pleasure, and the more I enjoyed it, the more
it seemed to stink.
"God, I want to bone you, Jake!" Craig grunted into my ear. "I really want
my cock up your arse!"
"Yeah?" I gasped, finding the idea inexplicably electrifying. The thought
of this gentle, camp young guy, grabbing my shoulders from behind as he
pounded at my hairy butt-crack, was, for some reason, an incredible
turn-on.
"Let's do it, Jake," he panted, his voice sounding like a woman over-doing
it in a crappy porn film. "Come on, it'll feel so good... I promise! Let
me fuck you... right now!"
His girlishness contrasted heavily with what he was saying but it no longer
seemed funny. I was by now finding it surprisingly erotic: to hear such a
lust to use me sexually expressed in such unlikely tones.
He nibbled at my earlobe and I felt nervous energy coursing down my spine.
I hadn't even realised my earlobes were erogenous: it had taken Craig as a
fellow male to show me how exciting it could feel to have them teased
during sex.
"Jesus, it smells so fucking rough!" I grunted. I was thinking of his
mother coming home from work to find the house stinking of our sex.
"Your arse is beautiful," Craig gasped in my ear. His finger was a blur in
and out of my hole. "Just think, though... it'll be even better with my
cock inside it!"
I called out with surprise as a powerful orgasm overwhelmed me. I fell
into Craig, who supported me, as the finger up my bum made my balls tingle
in a way that reminded me of my first ever solitary climax many years
earlier and sent surge after surge of my spunk shooting out from them.
Craig seemed initially disappointed that I'd spent myself – I think he
really thought he might be about to wangle a fuck out of me – but once
my orgasm had subsided and my cock had stopped soaking us with the thick,
white cargo from my bollocks, he pounded at his own, determined to follow
my example.
"What I said when you were cumming," he panted, his fist beating up and
down his small, stiff cock. "All that stuff about wanting to fuck
you... it was all just talk, you know. None of it was real."
"I know that, mate," I smiled, knowing precisely the opposite.
"I mean, I don't really wanna do anything like that," he gasped.
"It was just what guys say, Craig... I get that."
I reached out and, suppressing my disgust, fondled his wrinkled scrotum
while his hand thrashed away on his dick.
"Come on, mate," I urged him. "Shoot your wad! Imagine you've got your
knob up my arse!"
He threw his head back and started gasping at the ceiling. White strings
shot from his deep red cock-head, covering his shirt in a gloopy mess.
Having never talked a guy into a climax before, I was surprised at how easy
it was to get him to cum. If only girls could be so predictable: the
world, I felt, would be a far more harmonious place.
As he was coming down from his excitement and was panting against me, his
head on my shoulder, we heard the door slam below us as his mother came
home.
"Shit!" Craig said, pulling his finger out of my bum with a revolting
squelch. "She's early! We better clean up... fuck! She'll be coming
upstairs in a minute."
We clambered off the bed and Craig reached for a box of tissues, desperate
to clean up not only our cum-splattered shirts and trousers, but also his
finger which reeked of where it had been.
And so ended, somewhat indelicately as my dad might say, my first real gay
experience.
Talking of my dad, I looked over at him from my armchair and saw that he
was waiting for my story to begin. He took another sip from his wine and
then placed it back on its coaster with a small cough. I noticed him
glance disapprovingly over at my beer: I'd totally ignored the matching
coaster he'd laid out for it and had placed my glass on the bare wood of
the coffee table.
I didn't correct my mistake. There seemed no point; if the beer was going
to stain the wood, it would have done so by now.
"After the other lads had gone back to their rooms," I began, "it was
pretty obvious that Marcus was in no state to go anywhere. He was used to
sleeping over with me when he was too pissed to make the journey across
campus, so by the time I'd brushed my teeth he was flat-out, face-down on
my bed."
I'd pulled his boots off for him, laughing that I was undressing him like
he was a kid even though he was unconscious, and then had reached
underneath him to undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans. It
was when I'd been pulling his jeans down, exposing his arse-cheeks looking
tight and round in his orange boxer trunks, that I'd become aware again of
how attractive his scent back there was.
I'd checked that he was definitely passed-out and then had leant over to
sniff the back of his underpants. At first I'd been pretty careful –
keeping my nose well back from him and sniffing around both cheeks rather
than what was between them. When his only response was to start snoring
gently, my confidence grew and I pushed my nose right into what my dad had
just termed the "wonderfully odorous crevice". Behind the soapy smell of
laundry powder, or whatever it was on the material of his shorts, there was
that same distinctive pungent scent that had aroused me so much when I'd
been carrying out my dare in front of the guys an hour or so earlier.
It had an equivalent effect on me this time that it had on me previously:
my cock quickly swelled to full size and I felt a strong compulsion to work
it with my hand while I had my nose pressed into my mate's butt-crack.
Why the hell was I getting so boned-up with my face in Marcus' arse? What
was it about the smell of this guy's butt that was making me want to jerk
off?
"So what happened next?" dad asked with a certain amount of impatience.
"I stripped down to my t-shirt and briefs, and got into bed with him. That
was pretty normal for us – I mean, just because we sometimes crashed out
together in the same bed, it didn't mean anything more than that."
"Yeah, I know how it works," dad smiled. "It wasn't that long ago that I
was young enough to have mates sleeping over with me."
"You have mates staying over with you now – only not the sort of mates
you keep your underwear on for," I pointed out. "I'm just making it clear
that for me and Marcus it was totally non-sexual."
"At least until then," dad observed.
"Well, yeah..." I smirked. "Things were about to change pretty
drastically."
I'd snuggled into Marcus' back, still running a serious hard-on which was
poking into his butt. All the time I kept thinking over and over of that
amazing smell lurking right there between his cheeks and wishing my cock
was able to sniff the place it was nuzzling into. I put my arms around
him, hoping I could manage to get to sleep with us spooning like that, but
he abruptly regained consciousness and muttered, his voice sounding
gravelly, "You've got a stalk-on, Jake! You're just about knobbing my
arse, mate!"
I'd muttered some quip like, "You wish I was, you fucking gay boy!" and
then had gripped him more firmly, enjoying the way he was pushing his butt
back against my raging dick.
He'd muttered, still sounding half out of it, "Why've you got a hard-on,
anyway? You're such a fucking jerk-wad sometimes, Jake..."
I'd said, "It was having my face in your arse, mate. I've been running a
woody since then." I'd sniggered like it was such a great joke; that it
was so ridiculous it couldn't possibly be true.
Then he'd surprised me by admitting, his voice sounding slurred by the
amount of alcohol he'd drank, "I actually really liked the feel of you
licking my butt when we were playing that game. I mean, I probably
wouldn't say that if I was sober, but I only stopped you because I was
getting a stiffie myself."
I'd laughed into the back of his head. Whatever shampoo he used smelt
really nice; much better than my Head & Shoulders stuff.
Then he said, "Jesus, mate! Your dick feels fucking massive! Pity I'm not
gay – I'd be loving having your knob rubbing against my arse!"
Strictly speaking it was his arse rubbing against my knob: I wasn't sure if
he was aware of it, but he was gently working himself back and forth
against my erection.
I'd gripped him more firmly and had whispered, "You say you're not gay, but
you just admitted you were getting a boner with my face in your butt."
"That's different," he giggled. "It was just a reflex. My brain didn't
register if you were a girl or a boy."
"So you were in bed together," dad prompted me, eager to move things on.
"What happened next?"
"Well, Marcus kind of half woke up and told me, still pretty drunk, that
he'd like having my face in his butt. Then I ended up admitting that I'd
liked having it there."
"So I assume it ended up back there?" dad suggested with his wine glass
poised at his lips.
"You actually liked licking my arse?" Marcus asked, incredulously. He was
sounding a lot more awake now.
"Since you're admitting enjoying having me do it, then... yeah... I'll
admit I enjoyed having my face there."
"But you liked the taste of it?" he persisted. "You liked having your
tongue licking between my arse-cheeks?"
"A bit," I conceded. "Yeah... it was kind of... well... intriguing, I
guess."
"Your knob's fucking throbbing!" he chuckled. "It's grinding into me,
man!"
It didn't stop him working his arse against me even more. For a guy who
kept saying he wasn't gay, he sure enjoyed having a stiff dick poking into
his butt.
"It's the thought of your bum, mate," I grinned. "It's making me get as
horny as fuck!"
I'd meant it sarcastically but Marcus took it as straight-up. Which was
fortunate, really, because it moved things on nicely.
"Well, if you enjoyed it when you did it first time," he said, "I wouldn't
complain if you wanted to try it for a second."
"Yes, my face ended up back there," I told my dad. "He pulled his orange
shorts down and I burrowed my way down underneath my duvet to continue what
I'd started doing earlier."
My dad threw me a broad grin. I could tell what he was thinking: 'a chip
off the old block'. A chip off the old block! I kid you not: that really
was just the sort of old school phrase that would pop into his head.
"And obviously you liked it?" he asked.
I smiled back at him.
I worked my way between Marcus' cheeks, loving the way I could now smell
him properly without having to worry about how I might look in front of our
mates' eager faces. I pushed my tongue into his crack and got to feel
again the amazing sensation of having another lad's arse sending countless
electrical impulses surging from my taste buds.
Why had I never thought of doing this before? Surely it was obvious how
incredible this would be? So many lads I'd been friends with all these
years; so many arses I could have had my tongue burrowed into!
I knew from stuff my dad had told me that what I was doing to my friend was
called 'rimming'. Marcus was having his butt rimmed, no doubt for the
first time, and, as I was the one who had his tongue licking back there, it
was me who was rimming another lad's arse.
It sounded weird to apply that verb to what the two of us were doing.
Rimming had always seemed like a weird fetish of my dad's – I'd always
thought how horrible it must be to push your mouth and nose between another
guys' butt-cheeks – but what I was doing to Marcus felt exciting and
sexy, so much so that my cock was throbbing with the big brother of all
hard-ons.
Was this really 'rimming'? I figured it was. It seemed that I'd just have
to accept that I was a guy who liked rimming other dudes' butts now!
I pushed deeper into him, the tip of my tongue making circles around his
hole. Marcus groaned and his little throbbing ring opened for me. He was
inviting me in; he wanted me to lick him inside.
"When you rim a guy," I asked my dad, "do you just lick his arse – you
know, around the hole – or do you actually stick your tongue inside?"
He took a sip from his wine, staring into the middle distance and mulling
over the question as if it were some deep philosophical conundrum.
"I suppose," he began, putting his glass back on the coaster, "rimming
could be argued to be the most intimate thing you and another male can do
together. Even more so than... well..."
"Screwing each other's bums?" I asked him with a grin.
"Indeed," he agreed. "I take it, from what you said in the car on the way
back from uni, that you and Marcus have experimented with anal
penetration?"
"Experimented?" I chuckled. "We've become pretty accomplished actually."
"Really?" he smirked back. "So it's a pretty regular thing?"
"Every night," I exaggerated with a laugh. "Or at least as often as you'd
expect from a couple of lads who've discovered that sex can still be fun
even when it doesn't come with strings attached in the form of
girlfriends."
He grinned broadly at me. He liked that answer.
"Anyway," he went on, resuming his reply, "it seems to me that, as much as
I enjoy experiencing full anal intimacy with other men –"
"You mean shagging blokes' arses?" I sought to clarify.
"That's right, Jake," he said with a patient smile. "Well, as much as I
enjoy that – and believe me, I really do enjoy that –"
He allowed himself an indulgent chuckle and I couldn't help but do the
same.
"It seems to me," he continued, "that anal sex is really just a way for the
two of us men to achieve release. The real pleasure for me, and the part
which I savour, is the mutual rimming we indulge in beforehand. That's the
moment of intense togetherness; that's the part where I feel there's a
powerful fraternal bond between me and the other man."
He looked smug at how eloquently he considered he'd phrased his response.
He looked so self-satisfied that it was like he thought he should be up to
receive the Booker Prize for poetry or something.
"So what's the answer to my question?" I asked him.
"Oh... er..." he stumbled, his smugness quickly replaced by puzzlement.
"What was the question again?"
"When you rim a guy, do you stick your tongue up his butt?"
He lifted his glass and rolled his eyes a little. There were to be no
prizes for poetry coming his son's way any time soon.
After taking another drink, he said, "The point I was coming to, Jake,
before I managed to distract myself, was that, penetration with the tongue
lifts the male-to-male sexual experience to its highest form – at least
for me it does."
"So that's a 'yes', then?" I confirmed.
"That's a 'very much so'," he clarified before asking, "So did you do that
to Marcus?"
"What do you think?" I grinned.
I pushed into him tentatively at first, unsure as to what I was going to
find, but then, enjoying the richness of his taste and the darker pungent
bite once my tongue was inside him, I worked myself gently into him,
flicking the tip of it in and out like Craig had done with his finger.
Marcus had enjoyed that and had muttered, "Ah yeah!" in his appreciation.
I'd felt his hand on the back of my head, urging me to tongue him more
deeply, and his other took up a gentle rhythm on his dick, not really
wanking it properly but just squeezing it and sliding his foreskin back and
forth over his bell-end to intensify his pleasure.
"Stick your tongue into me," he'd whispered. "Lick me out, man!"
I was already onto it, working my tongue as far into him as I could push
it. His taste was amazing: I'd never experienced anything like it. It was
a bit on the rough side, that much I'll grant you – I mean, it was
blatantly clear what I pushing my tongue into – but at the same time, on
some weird base level, it was off-the-scale exciting. My own cock was
throbbing in my briefs – literally aching for me to beat it off like it
sometimes gets when I'm looking at some really steaming lesbian porn. How
the hell could sticking my tongue up another lad's arse do that to me?
What was it about doing this that was just so fucking horny?
"You've thought about this a lot since, haven't you?" dad asked, draining
his wine glass.
"Sometimes, yeah," I nodded. "At... er... certain times."
Dad grinned at me: we both knew exactly which times I meant.
I wondered at that moment how often my dad thinks about other men when he
masturbates. Whether, like me, he mainly thinks of females but just
occasionally – when he's in the right mood – he lets his thoughts
turn to his own gender and have a good tug at the thought of how much fun a
guy's butt can be. Or whether he's cranked it up a few notches and now
mainly thinks of getting balls-deep with other blokes when he tosses off.
Needless to say, I wasn't about to ask him. If I did, he'd just spin me
some crap about "moments of togetherness" and "fraternal bonds" or
whatever.
"I actually meant," he explained, "that you have, perhaps, relived the
moment over and over to try and work out what was so exciting about it."
"Is that what happened with you? After the night you and Guy first did
it?"
He nodded. "Yes. I couldn't understand how something that should, in the
cold light of day, be so utterly revolting could elicit such
a... well... dramatic state of arousal. I even did some research on it in
the town library... not that I found much, aside from a particularly
hostile librarian."
"I wasn't that freaked out," I told him. "But then I suppose I'd seen you
go through everything you did, and the way you started meeting guys for sex
and stuff. I'd kind of come to terms with it for you, so I guess that made
it easier to accept in myself."
Dad nodded and smiled. At times like this he looked almost proud. Can a
guy feel proud at seeing his own bisexuality expressed in his son?
Then he asked, "So what happened after you'd rimmed him, or is the answer
to that too obvious for us to dwell on?"
I chuckled. "We didn't cum together, if that's what you mean. Well, not
while I was under my duvet with my face stuck in his butt. We had a bit
more fun that first night... and a lot more the next morning."
I looked at his empty wine glass and my beer which had barely a couple of
swigs left in it. "You probably don't want to hear it, though. It's
getting a bit late... maybe we should get to bed."
"I'd very much like to hear it, but only if you're willing to share such
personal moments with me."
"Yeah, I don't mind," I shrugged. "Do you want me to top us both up?"
"It couldn't hurt to have a little drop of scotch as a nightcap," he
smiled, and passed me his empty glass to put in the sink.
I pulled away from Marcus' arse and pushed the duvet to one side. The air
in the room smelt clean and fresh compared to where my nose had just been.
"You gotta fucking try this, mate," I told him. "You gotta rim me, see
what it's like!"
"Is that what it's called?" he laughed, still sounding drunk. "Like that
guy from 'Red Dwarf'?"
I pulled my t-shirt off, I was feeling so hot. I knew it couldn't be the
university heating – they were always kept it at the bare minimum to
save money.
"Come on, Marcus," I insisted. "Rim my arse!"
He laughed again. "Is it called that because it was in an episode of the
show? Did Rimmer lick someone's butt or something?"
"I don't know, mate," I said. "I don't watch it. Maybe it was called that
before 'Red Dwarf' even went out. I don't know."
I yanked off my briefs and repeated, "Come on, mate, do it to me! I wanna
know what it feels like."
I was going to be naked on my bed with another lad, which felt kind of
momentous as far as my view of my sexuality went, but I no longer cared. I
wanted to feel his tongue up my arse: nothing else really mattered at that
moment.
He giggled again. "I don't know if I want to, Jake. I mean it's your bum,
mate. You shit through it and stuff."
And stuff? What the fuck else did he think I did through it?
"I know that, dude, but it's nothing like you expect it to be. Trust me,
mate, it feels amazing to get your face stuck in there. I would never have
believed it, but it really fucking did!"
He laughed again but agreed that he'd try. "I'm so gonna chuck up. If I
do, it's your fault, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever," I snapped, and climbed up onto my bed, facing away from
his head.
"Lie flat," I told him, positioning my feet on either side of his body and
squatting over him. He giggled again, unsure of what I was doing in the
near-darkness of the room, and said that something felt ticklish when he
felt my bollocks nuzzle against his chin. Then called out in horror when
he realised what I was doing, struggling underneath me as I lowered my
splayed, hairy arse-crack down onto his upturned face.
===
To be continued
===